


Darcy Lewis' Key Question

by TheVenerableCharlotte



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Darcy Lewis, Bad Flirting, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:18:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9880205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVenerableCharlotte/pseuds/TheVenerableCharlotte
Summary: Darcy Lewis has a very important question she needs to ask Bucky Barnes, who would prefer to be left alone until he can accustom himself with the people around him.Unfortunately for him, leaving people alone has really never been Darcy's style.





	1. Chapter One

“Clint?”

Before she’d even fully spoke, the arm carrying the spoon to his mouth stopped dead in mid-air, Cheerios and milk sloshing slightly over the side of the utensil back into the bowl, some of it missing the bowl entirely and landing on the kitchen island he was currently sitting at. 

He didn’t even jump or spring into action anymore; at this point, he was way too past it. No, instead he felt his eyes lock into place where they were staring at the bowl; not blinking, not calculating. Just staring forward as he registered the patient individual now sitting on the stool across from him on the opposite side of the kitchen island, her fingers happily drumming a tune into the marble.

He wasn’t upset. Or triggered. Or even angry.

Instead, James Buchanan Barnes was one pissed off super-spy.

And it was all Darcy Lewis’ fault.

If he could even call himself a fucking super-spy at this point; he’d been contemplating genuinely requisitioning a different job since it had started. Perhaps something in Filing; that would work. He’d be bored out of his fucking mind, but at least he wouldn’t spend every waking minute wondering just how much he sucked at his job. At the beginning, it hadn’t caused him to re-evaluate his skill-set. Just the fucked up company these so-called ‘friends’ of his kept. 

\---

It still felt like a lifetime ago, when Steve had found him; in a safehouse in Quito, thinner than he could remember, still terrified of every fucking shadow that crossed his sight. Steve had found him, and he’d brought him home to New York and brought him to Stark Tower. From then on, it was like a highlight reel played in his head more than actual memories; regaining his memories, training with Steve, meeting the rest of the Avengers whom he would eventually come to trust the way Steve trusted them. Meeting his teammates, having his best friend back by his side…he’d been sceptical before Steve found him, and even sceptical afterwards. But eventually, he allowed himself to feel the hope that had been long crushed out of his brain once more. And every training session with Natasha, every drink with Tony, even after every fucking tea and zen session with Banner, he felt like he belonged somewhere. For the first time since Bucky Barnes died in the Alps and the Winter Soldier was born, he felt like he’d finally been resurrected. He was home.

Until she appeared.

Even during his sparring session with Thor, he could tell the big guy was bursting with happiness and anticipation; he looked like a kid that had just been told he was getting his entire Christmas list. After they’d finished and towelled off, all he needed to do was ask the guy what the hell he was so damn excited about, and he almost jumped through the roof with enthusiasm explaining how his ‘lady love’ Jane and her intern were arriving to work in the tower. Honestly, Bucky was a little concerned for him; when FRIDAY informed them both that Dr. Foster and her intern had arrived, Thor’s giddiness would have put the goddamn sun to shame as they both left the training room, Thor heading straight towards the helipad on the roof to meet his girl and Bucky going the opposite way towards his room.

And that had been it for a while. He enjoyed the big guy’s company; the fact that he was also an overgrown golden retriever that probably couldn’t hurt somebody’s feelings if he tried was a refreshing bonus from the people he’d previously worked with. But he wasn’t about to get all involved with his life just yet. So he stayed away, planning to introduce himself when the time was right, and they had settled in. Or, at least that was the plan; Steve cornering him in their apartment while he was watching cartoons and ‘gently suggesting’ that they go visit Dr. Foster and her intern together to welcome them to the Tower kind of threw that plan in the crapper.

\---

Even when they were there, it wasn’t that hard for him to tone down his hypersensitivity and quit scanning the room for any surprise ninja assassins to try and kill them all now that they were in one room; pretty much everybody in the Tower had vouched for their trustworthiness. Except for Thor; he'd only avoided an hour-long proclamation of honour by ducking into a supply closet at the last second, Thor’s booming voice still carrying as if he was right next to him in the closet; cramped up next to brooms and mops and bleach. 

No, everything had been fine; Thor had greeted them standing awkwardly in the hallway of the apartment, grinning like an idiot with his arm rested around the shoulder of a dame who, while admittedly beautiful, looked about five seconds from a nervous breakdown if she wasn’t allowed to get back to her sciencing. Steve had been all smiles when Thor had introduced her to him, pulling the ‘polite gentleman’ shtick that wasn’t really all that much of a shtick in the first place (It was Steve, after all; come on) when the woman turned to him with an appraising look in her eye. 

And here it comes, he thought, his expression blank as he stared down the tiny woman in front of him. Here came the inevitable look of horror on their face as she realised who he was. What he had done. What he could do to her and the danger he posed to her, waiting for the inevitable stammering and avoidance of eye-contact and looking for any excuse to avoid being around him.

Except she didn’t.

This small woman, with a God of Thunder by her side, looked back at him and all his destruction…and cocked an eyebrow in faint surprise.

“The way Thor kept going on about you, I thought you’d be taller.”

He’d blinked once. And then twice. And then finally, he’d felt an uncontrollable smirk make his way across his face. 

Oh, yeah.

He liked her.

He definitely liked her. Judging by the uneasy looks on Steve and Thor’s face, they’d been a bit unsure as to how the first meeting between them would go as well. But if the relieved breath from Steve and the sun-shaming grin and booming laugh from Thor was any indication, he’d nailed it.

\---

After they’d exchanged pleasantries and chatted for a while, he was already itching to go; his ability to carry a conversation had all but fucking vanished when it came to new people he couldn’t just pretend to get close to. He really needed to work on that. But as long as Dr. Foster continued to ramble on about Einstein-Rosen Bridges and wormholes and what the fuck ever she was talking about in that animated fashion of hers as she waved her arms about like she was legitimately trying to poke somebody’s goddamn eye out, today was not that day. Not by a long shot. He was certain Steve noticed him out of the corner of his eye as he continued to politely listen to Dr. Foster’s rambling, but he was grateful that he didn’t make a move to stop him as he stealthily slinked towards the door, exiting out into the hallway and making a beeline straight for the kitchen.

He needed something to fucking eat.

Along with kitchens and cooking areas in each and every apartment in the tower, Stark Tower also had the genius idea to create communal kitchens on each of the floors, each one of them looking like the classiest college dorm kitchen in the world, magnified by a factor of ten by size. And since everybody (especially including himself) much preferred to eat in privacy, nobody ever used them; even Stark admitted that they were just there to fill space, and everyone ate in their own apartments instead of here. So Stark Tower was filled with communal kitchens that nobody ever fucking used, allowing him to escape to the one on his floor and eat in silence. He was sat out in plain view, and not once had he ever seen a soul walk past. It was heaven.

The only problem was, he quickly figured out as he rummaged through the drawers and cabinets and the refrigerator, his brilliant plan had hit a tiny snag.

Tony Stark didn’t have jack shit to eat on any of the floors, not just his own.

Turning his nose up at some of the sugary crap he saw stocked to the top of the cabinet, the only other things that he could see were candy bars, extra-chocolatey candy bars, cereal, and what seemed like a whole section of the cabinet dedicated to used takeout containers. Grumbling under his breath and swearing numerous profanities, he made do with the first chocolate bar he grabbed and sat himself down at the nearest table, parking his butt firmly in the seat, undoing the candy-bar wrapper with his metal arm and taking a copious bite of the nougaty, chocolatey goodness.

And locking eyes with the woman sitting directly across from him, holding a half-eaten sandwich between her hands and looking back at him like a deer in headlights.

His own eyes widened. What the fuck.

Instead of reacting, his whole body froze; his arm remained frozen where it hovered, keeping the candy bar right up to his mouth, his teeth frozen in their bite as the single piece of candy bar rested inside his mouth against his tongue, the rest of the non-bitten candy bar mere inches away from his teeth. His right, non-metal arm remained at rest atop the table, not having moved an inch as his widened eyes took in the woman opposite him; her brown eyes as wide as saucers as they stared back into his, less of a challenge of any kind and more of a ‘how the fuck do eyes even work’ look as she held the half-eaten sandwich several inches away from her already half-open mouth, clearly just about to take another bite before he’d strode into the room, completely fucking unaware despite all his years of training and assassinations that he wasn’t alone in the room when he entered.

His eyes still frozen, unsure of where to look, his peripheral vision continued to take in the stunned woman’s features. Long, brown hair cascading over her face and past her slender shoulders, a purple beanie sitting oddly proportioned on her head. The sandwich in-between her hands still losing ingredients fast, the only movement between either of them being the lettuce that had fallen out of the bottom as the crusty bread flaked down alongside it, half of it falling on the table top and the other half falling into her lap where he could just see the top of her left leg crossed over the right.

Fuck.

She was hot.

And he was still staring.

“…Hey.” Her voice was surprisingly chipper for somebody who both very clearly had no clue what the hell was happening right now, and had a mouthful of sandwich.

He blinked once. 

He had officially never seen this woman before. Never in Stark Tower, never prior to that; he struggled to believe that he would never have noticed this woman before. Back in the 40’s, she would have been exactly his type; he’d always gone for brunettes first. They were like a weakness to him. And with all the informational advantages and leaps that they’ve made over the course of the years…yeah, he was sure that he would have noticed her before. But even if he didn’t know who she was, there was no way she didn’t know who he was, he realised, a ball of dread quickly forming in his stomach before he crushed it swiftly with his Soldier conditioning. 

He was prepared for it; he was prepared for all of it. All the screaming, and the terror, and pleas not to kill them. He’d dealt with it so many times before, he could deal with it now. Even if she was hot. Even if she was fast. Even if-

“Want some?” She offered chirpily, cutting through his thoughts like a knife as she nonchalantly held out her sandwich several inches forward towards him, her words muffled as she talked with her mouth full.

Yep. What the fuck.

Despite her casual words, it was like a switch had been flipped in his brain to remind him of just how easily this could have gone south had she been a legitimate threat; standing up so quickly that the chair slid backwards a few feet from behind him, he turned around and marched towards the entrance to the kitchen, his steps travelling at super-speed as he exited the kitchen and left the impossibly stealthy brunette alone with her sandwich. Only faintly realising that he was still holding the candy bar in his hand and an uneaten piece of candy in his mouth once he had arrived at the elevator and aggressively informed a slightly miffed FRIDAY that he wished to return to his room, his already darkened expression turned even blacker, terrifying the shit out of a junior agent walking past.

That was not fun.

\---

Watching with a leisurely gaze as the dude across from her jumped up like he’d been shocked with a cattle prod, Darcy Lewis’ eyes followed the back of the dude’s head as he power-stalked out of the kitchen, restraining herself to only three or four looks at his (goddamn gorgeous) ass as Tall, Dark and Terrifying With The Badass Metal Arm noped out of her presence with an impressive amount of vigour.

“Good talk.” she declared out loud to the empty kitchen, shrugging casually to herself before swallowing the now-mushy bite of sandwich in her mouth and taking another one.

That was fun.

\---

He had slipped; he’d never slipped that badly in the entire time he had been conscious of his actions, and definitely never that bad when he hadn’t been. He hadn’t even noticed that she was in the goddamn kitchen; just walked right past her and sat his ass down across from her. If she had been a real threat, he would have been dead; all the training he had received would have been for nothing. Maybe he had become too complacent, surrounded by friends and allies. Maybe he had only just recognised that he had started to take his surroundings for granted. 

But it wasn’t just him; there was something about the woman across from him that contributed to the entire situation as well. He had had no idea she was there, but at the same time…he had had no goddamn idea that she was there. She’d clearly been trained; definitely one of the better recruits, if she was able to sit in plain sight and have him not even recognise that she was there. Whoever she was, that woman was dangerous, and he couldn’t afford to meet her again with his guard so down.

So he didn’t.

He avoided the communal kitchens from then onward; making sure to only eat in his and Steve’s apartment, where there would actually be more than fucking candy bars and cereal. He trained. He went on missions. And he made sure that the woman who was able to catch him with his guard down couldn’t do so again.

He quickly learned the name of the woman from Thor; Darcy Lewis. Dr. Foster’s intern, poli-sci major and taser-er of Thunder Gods. He could have done without Thor repeating the last part three hundred times as if it was the best thing he’d ever experienced in his life with that dumb grin of his and booming like he actually wanted to bust his fucking ear drums, but Thor was convinced that his ‘shield-sister’ was pretty damn far from an actual threat. Which he would have been fine with if it had stayed that way; all he needed to do was periodically avoid the big guy, and he could easily shove all thoughts of Darcy Lewis out of his mind.

Unfortunately for him, she seemed to be the kind of dame to give a ‘fuck you’ and two middle fingers to the idea of actually being quiet. 

First, it was Thor.

Next, it was Clint a few days later, his spirits brightened when one Darcy Lewis had apparently allowed him to be her Netflix marathon buddie to avoid Hill chasing after him for his numerous backlogged mission reports.

After that, it was Tony offering to subscribe to whatever religions had worshipped Thor for bringing his ‘soulmate in sass’. Or ‘sassmate’, as he called it.

Then Bruce.

Then fucking Steve.

Even Natasha ended up casually suggesting during a sparring session that the two get to know each other, that he needed to loosen up at bit. Fucking Natasha, who didn’t trust the goddamn ground she walked on.

Well, whatever it was, he steadfastly agreed that he wasn’t buying it. There was clearly something up with this girl that had allowed her to brainwash the rest of his team, and even if there wasn’t…he wasn’t the same as he was before. He couldn’t just turn on the charm, or even act like himself. Before, when he was an actual guy who could talk to somebody without assessing their person for weapons, he would have done great; he wouldn’t even have to turn on the charm, just talk to her like a normal person. He couldn’t talk to her like a fucking assassin, that was for damn sure. 

It’d be fine. He’d just get on with his life, the way she’d been doing before she came in and abducted all his friends and replaced them with replicas that fell for her charms.

Given everything that had happened prior though, he should have expected that his plan would go to shit.

\---

After a training session with Steve late in the morning, Steve had offered that they go out for a while to get him out of the Tower; maybe catch a movie, go to a diner. He’d agreed, mentioning that he had to speak to Hill about his mission reports for some reason; he’d be right down and meet him in the garage once he was done. Nodding in understanding, Steve had headed off while he had strode down to the end of the hall, asking FRIDAY to stop the currently moving elevator and standing in front of it patiently as he wondered whether he should just take the stairs to be alone. If it was some junior agent again, he really didn’t want to handle awkward and fearful sideways glances like the last time that happened.

But as the elevator doors opened to reveal a petite, brunette woman with curves straight out of an old pinup poster holding two cups of coffee in her hands, his eyes widened and his heart sank.

It was even worse.

“Hey!” Darcy Lewis greeted him boisterously, her face lighting up at the sight of him awkwardly standing there as her face effortlessly morphed into a pleasant grin as if she’d done it a billion times before. “Welcome to the Elevator of Awesomeness; free complimentary coffee with every ri-ide.” She offered in a sing-song voice, proffering one of the coffees and shaking it slightly. “Except I can’t though, really; this one’s for Jane, she goes into Super-Saiyan bitch mode if she doesn’t get her coffee when she’s sciencing. And the other one’s for…well, me. Because even without her coffee, she can get cranky if her sciencing doesn’t work the way she wants it to. You know?” 

He blinked once.

“Dude, I don’t think the elevator is going to stay open much longer.” She commented, her dry voice cutting across the silence along with that unapologetic grin of hers. “Come on; in you get.” She offered, stepping slightly to the side to allow him entrance.

Maybe he really should take the stairs.

“Uh…dude?”

No, he could do this. He’d deposed warlords, eliminated terrorists; he could handle a chipper intern in her early twenties. Of course he fucking could. Clenching his jaw slightly in determination, he stepped forwards into the elevator next to the beaming intern, making sure to give himself some personal space as the doors closed and the elevator started to go up.

After a few seconds of self-imposed silence, he felt a tapping on his hip; looking down, his eyes darkened to see that she was casually bumping her hip against his to get his attention.

“Soooo…how’s it hanging?”

His eyes snapped up to meet hers, warnings burning like wildfire.

She grinned affably. “I’m Darcy, by the way; we only met once, and you…kind of ran away like I was yodelling out of tune or something, but it doesn’t really matter. Hey, you’re Steve’s buddy, right?” she asked casually, her casual tone betraying no malice or even seriousness at all. “The one from the 40’s, his best buddy forever, that kind of thing. That’s kind of awesome, don’t you think? I mean, I have Jane. Who yells at me when she’s cranky. But I’m sure you yell when you’re cranky, right?”

He didn’t move, upping the intensity of his warning eyes as far as they could go.

“Or wait…no, you’re probably more of a brooder. Mr. ‘I’m Not Gonna Say Anything, Because I’m Gonna Murder You Good Way Later” kind of guy. Like you’re doing now.” She noted calmly, pointing at his face for a second with the coffee still in hand, grin still plastered on her face. “So, what’s got you pissed? Gas prices?”

Suddenly, she gasped, her eyes going wide as she realised something. “No, you’re going up; you don’t seem like the kind of guy to chill in R&D, sooo…Hill? 

He turned his attention back to the elevator door, willing the damn thing to move faster.

“Ooh, ouch, man;” she offered, ploughing on and adopting a sympathetic expression. “I get it. I mean, if Hill wants you, you frog-march your ass over there right the fuck now. That chick is terrifying. Although, if we’re being honest here, she’s probably really wild in the sack.”

He was wrong. He couldn’t do this.

“I mean, that is one chick who would take control, you know? You’d be terrified and turned on at the same exact time. Although I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t face a whole day of Jane going Super-Saiyan if it meant that we’d get to fuck on her desk afterwards. Same with Steve, really, but also kind of different; I mean, the dude’s a super-soldier that was like five feet tall before the serum, right? But he was a grown-ass man before it happened, so he’d probably be really sensitive. I mean, despite the fact that now he’s probably got a gigantic-“

Wordlessly, his hand shot out, his fingers slamming on the next floor number with expert precision, the almost immediate lurching of the elevator bringing her rambling to a screeching halt. Even before the doors had fully opened, he was out faster than a goddamn bullet, his expression a mix between infuriated and shell-shocked as he made a beeline for a door on his left.

He’d take the fucking stairs.

\---

When he told Steve fifteen minutes later in the garage, the fucker burst out laughing and wouldn’t stop all the way to the diner.


	2. Chapter Two

The next day, he’d been talking with Barton about training techniques, the conversation as casual as one would probably discuss the baseball match last night; tossing ideas back and forth, one of which including testing his reflexes with dummy arrows, it gave him something to do before he had to get back to Steve and meet him in the training area.

Bidding Barton farewell as he headed off to the shooting range to let off some steam and try out some of the ideas they had tossed around to see if they might work, he’d retreated to the communal kitchen; he hadn’t forgotten what had happened the last time he was in one of them, but he actually wanted a candy bar this time, so it was worth the risk. But being honest, there wasn’t really that much of a risk anyway; there wasn’t really any chance of-

“Hey, dude!”

His heart plummeted into his stomach as Darcy Lewis appeared next to him, no coffee in her hands as she crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at him with a friendly smile, leaning against the kitchen counter he was currently standing against.

“Fan-cy meeting you here; you stormed off after our last chance encounter, remember?”

He did remember. All too fucking well.

“I mean, that’s fair; the subject matter probably wasn’t traditional elevator small talk. Still, I bet you remember me now, huh? Oh, how was Hill?” she asked, her interest piqued as she casually cocked her head slightly to the side in curiosity as she waited for his answer, completely ignoring the bewildered expression on his face.

There was no way in hell she could just appear like that as soon as he imagined her presence; she probably haunted the kitchens. And the elevator, as well.

He opened his mouth and then closed it again after a few seconds. “…Fine.” he responded gruffly, his confusion screaming through his tone.

She beamed, giving no indication that she was unhappy with his tone. “Fine’s good; fine’s great for her. Speaking of which, I bet she was hella fine, huh?” 

Quickly slamming the cabinet door with slightly more force than he wanted, he turned around and started off towards the door. He couldn’t deal with this again.

Unfortunately, it didn’t seem that he was going to get off that easily this time.

“So, how ‘bout it, Soldier?” she asked chirpily, a smirk coming to the edges of her mouth as she effortlessly fell in line with him. “Any Avengers in the building that you maybe wanna give a little somethin’ somethin’?”

“Do you always start friendships like this, doll?”

“Not really; I just go with the feeling that I get about people.” she admitted causally, earning a scoff of disbelief from him.

“And I’m expected to believe that your gut told me that asking who in the building I wanted to fuck was the right way to go?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to, but it’s what I got. I’m not really a people-person in the sense that I know what to say and shit; no, I’m more of the ‘I Say What Comes Into My Head Because I Don’t Really Have A Brain-To-Mouth Filter, But It Usually Works’ kind of girl. Trust me: this is the key to our friendship, so come on.”

He stopped dead in the hallway, watching her as she stopped a few feet later, looking back at him with expectant eyes. Scoffing once more, he looked over both of his shoulders before looking back at her as if to will her into realising what a dumb topic of conversation this was. Judging by the still-expectant look on her face, she didn’t get it. Not by a long fucking shot.

Shaking his head in exasperation, he set off once more, ignoring how easily she picked up the pace to match him once more. 

“You’re insane.” he concluded, stopping in front of the elevator and motioning for FRIDAY to bring up the elevator, stepping inside once the doors swung open.

“Natasha, right? I know, man, the red hair and the deadliness? Yeah, makes me shiver too.” Darcy sent him an exaggerated wink, her brilliant smile faltering slightly when he returned her look with an unimpressed glare of his own. “No, apparently not. Wanda? I mean, she’s cute, but I didn’t really think that she was your type.”

The doors started to close.

“Sam?”

He lifted his hand and waved his hand in farewell, smiling widely in exaggerated friendliness as the doors closed in front of him, blocking her from sight.

“Steve?!” came the muffled query from the other side of the doors, her voice slightly higher pitched than normal as the elevator started to head downwards towards Steve in the training area.

\---

And that was how it had been for the past three goddamn weeks since he had met her; chance encounters layered with interrogations on who he wanted to take to bed and fuck until the sunrise. Even if he didn’t like it, he had to admire it, in a sense; Darcy was relentless in her pursuit of this very specific and very weird slice of knowledge. 

She’d ambush him for whatever reason, sometimes under the pretense of a request from another teammate but usually just ambushing him without shame or regret, and casually hold a genuine conversation with him before it inevitably turned to who he wanted to fuck. 

First, she went through all the Avengers. Then, once that had been exhausted, she moved on to various agents and Stark personnel that she knew of. Then she moved on to Stark personnel that she didn’t know of, and most likely just didn’t exist at all outside of her head. He wasn’t exactly sure when she’d drew the line, but more than once during her interrogations, she dispensed with the conversational foreplay, and straight up threw out a name. More than once during the course of their ‘conversations’, he’d contemplated moving to a different section of Stark Tower. Or even leaving the Tower altogether to move to a place with less talking. He’d heard Antarctica was nice this time of year.

But little by little, the chance encounters turned friendly as he began to respond with sass of his own, and start to return her words with something other than an ice-cold glare. 

He still wasn’t completely comfortable with the casual shows of pure emotion that he was used to from her. But she didn’t mind; she seemed to be fine with just letting him come out of his shell bit by bit.

He liked that.

And every single moment he was around her, it got harder and harder when she asked him “Who’s the lucky gal, Bucky-ball?” to not turn around and respond “I’m liking the look of you, doll.” in a low voice.

\---

“Come on, it’s gotta be Clint, right? Is it the arms?”

Blinking once, he resumed the movement of his arm and put the spoon of cereal into his mouth. “Are you ever gonna let this go?” he responded, his usual tone of annoyance sprinkled with familiarity and a ghost of a smirk that he wasn’t able to keep off his face.

“Dude, I told you from the beginning that this could be the start of an amazing friendship that people would totally tune in every week for. Now come on.”

“Friendship’s overrated.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Darcy roll her eyes so hard he thought they might roll right back into her head. “Yes, we all get that you’re Mr. Grumpy Face, but even you have a heart. Probably. I mean, I’m pretty sure. Kind of. Everyone has someone they’d bone if they could; it’s intimate knowledge between friends. I mean, you know Steve’s, right?”

He turned his head slightly to look directly at her. She raised an eyebrow at his unimpressed gaze, not in the least bit intimidated.

“Bucky, I’ve told you before; I grew up in the Lewis household; you’re not that scary. Momma Lewis would chew you up and spit you out with that Mom Glare of hers.”

“…Fine, it’s Clint. You got me. You happy now?” he snapped out after a few seconds of indignant silence, digging out another spoonful of cereal.

Darcy narrowed her eyes, pointing an accusing finger at his face. “You’re lying.”

“Yeah.” He acknowledged, shrugging his shoulders and standing up to put the bowl in the sink, leaving an annoyed Darcy sitting alone at the island.

“You can’t do that, my grumpy friend; it’s against the rules.” she responded, a smug grin on her face as she leaned forward and placed the bottom of her jaw on her upturned fist.

“I gave you a name, doll. You never said it had to be the right name.” 

Her grin dropped like a stone.

“Remind me, doll…what was it that you said to Steve the other day when you beat him at Battleship?” He asked her thoughtfully, a shit-eating grin crawling over his face as he remembered Steve blindly refusing to admit defeat as she had followed him around with a cackling grin. “Oh, yeah; get fucked.” he smiled as he turned around and placed the bowl in the sink at the same time his enhanced hearing picked up as she shifted in her seat.

“Trying to, dude.” She muttered to herself, so quiet that he wouldn’t have picked it up if he didn’t have super-hearing.

His heart skipped a beat and he froze slightly in place, but just as quickly as it had come on, it disappeared; turning around and fixing her with a relaxed stare.

“Alrighty then,” she announced, jumping off the kitchen island. “This has been fun, but I have a severely underfed astrophysicist a few floors up, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she won’t bite me this time if I try to force her to shower like last time.” She shuddered. “I love her, but she’s a goddamn animal sometimes; like a stray cat who just lashes out. She’s got the fingernails to match if I don’t keep on top of it, I swear to God.” she continued, her tone still animated as she turned around and headed for the door, still talking as she left him alone in the kitchen, still leaning against the sink.

His mind was racing, but he didn’t move a muscle.

\---

“So what’s going on with you and Darcy?”

He stilled instantly, his eyes darkening as he looked to his left on the couch, piercing Steve with his most unimpressed glare.

“Nothin’” he growled out, standing up and heading over to the kitchen.

“Don’t know if I’d call it nothing.” He heard Steve mutter out, whirling around to catch Steve looking back at him with a look that made him want to kick him in the teeth sometimes.

“Don’t give me that fucking look.”

“I’m not giving you any look, Bucky, I-“

“-Yeah, you fucking are.” he cut across him, rolling his eyes and leaning back against the kitchen counter. “That ‘America Is Disappointed In You’ fucking look of yours. Jesus, you put puppies to shame with that goddamn look of yours.” Steve shrugged, his face still exasperated.

“You know Natasha’s created a pool on whether you guys will actually stop flirting and get on with it?” Steve revealed, the ghost of a smirk gracing his features.

He blinked. “We haven’t been flirting.”

“Uh huh.” Steve replied, the disbelief in his voice evident as he got up from the couch and picked up the empty pizza box on the coffee table, carrying it over to the kitchen where he was standing. “You think she asks everyone who they want to have sex with?”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is the problem, Buck?” Steve asked, turning to look at him and crossing his arms.

“I want to!” his admission was met with silence, Steve staring at him with a raised eyebrow, daring him to not explain. Sighing slightly, he looked down at the floor, clenching his fist. “I…every time she asks me, I just want to look at her and say ‘you’. See that fucking smirk go across her lips and kiss them until I can’t.”

“You aren’t that person anymore, Buck.” Steve said quietly, knowing exactly what he was thinking.

“More like him than the guy you know.” He shot back, feeling guilt stir inside him when he saw Steve flinch at his words out of the corner of his eye. “And the guy she probably thinks she sees. She doesn’t know how dangerous I am. What I could do if something went wrong.”

“You think she didn’t ask?” his head snapped up to look at Steve, his eyes narrowing. “You think she just ignored the way you were when you first met?”

“You told her.” he realised, his eyes widening slightly.

“I told her…that despite what you’d been through, I knew my best friend was in there somewhere. A good guy, who deserves so much more than what he got.” Steve revealed softly, a small smile adorning his features as he stepped forward. “Do you know how many people I’ve said that to and they haven’t believed me? Still thought that you were a killer that deserved to be put down?” This time, it was his turn to flinch slightly at Steve’s words. “She didn’t. I don’t even think there was anything for me to convince her of in the first place; it didn’t even enter her head that you didn’t deserve happiness in some way.” He cast his eyes up to the ceiling, willing his eyes to be anywhere but at Steve when he got that look on his face that said nobody could convince him otherwise. “Darcy’s good like that. She got you to talk to her, didn’t she?”

“You mean she fucking pestered me into being into her?” Steve laughed softly, a grin breaking across his face.

“Did it work?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. He felt his own face break into an uncontrollable smile.

“Yeah. I think it did.”

\---

The next day, he was in the training area when she found him. His hair pulled back into a bun, his eyes focused and his senses honed, he struck the punching bag repeatedly with a deadly effectiveness; imagining an enemy in front of him, his arms moved forwards in strikes against the exposed weak parts of his enemy’s body, his body moving in tandem with his blows in a co-ordinated dance. Locked in as his body moved fluidly, the movements coming to him as easily as breathing, he barely heard the yelling several feet away from him eventually shaking him out of his stupor, turning his head with measured breaths to see Darcy standing there with an amused grin on her face, wearing only a casual t-shirt and gym shorts. Ignoring the feeling in his chest for now, he raised an eyebrow himself in response, equal parts beguiled and perplexed.

“What’re you doing here, doll? Not that it isn’t nice to see you, but…why?”

“Ever the charmer, Barnes.” She responded teasingly, stepping forwards. “So, you know how Nat’s like, a super badass on top of an assassin on top of knowing eighty ways to kill me with an eraser?”

He nodded. She might be watching after all.

“Well, according to her, I need to learn how to ‘defend myself from assailants’, even though I’m, like, a vanta-black belt in tazing bitches. I still think her holding me down by her foot was unnecessary, because she’s a fucking super-spy, and I’d eaten, like, four donuts earlier. I mean, I regret nothing, but I DO regret ever saying yes in the first place, since it’s only been four days, and I’m aching in places I didn’t even know existed, and she’s treating the exercises like I have the slightest goddamn idea what I’m doing; I mean, you take down bitches with her on missions, you know, right?” she asked him innocuously, suddenly breaking her tirade and cocking her head to the side slightly in curiosity.

He leaned his head forwards slightly, reminding her that she still hadn’t made her point.

“Oh, yeah; apparently, some junior agent shot Clint in the foot yesterday, and she needs to mock in the infirmary, so she said that I could train with you. Cool, right?” she grinned, oblivious to the way that he’d innocently put his hands behind his back so he could clench them until his knuckles turned white, smiling harmlessly. 

Fucking Natasha. He was going to end her goddamn life when this was over.

“So, dude?” she spoke up, stepping forwards onto the mat and bringing up her fists into an incorrect fighting stance that he wasn’t sure he had the heart to tell her the nine ways he could incapacitate her without giving her time to even breath. Swallowing once, he nodded casually after a few seconds, stepping forwards and towering over her small frame.

“I have to warn you dude, Mistress Widow hasn’t been holding back much.” Darcy spoke up from behind her fists, softly swaying back and forth and rumbling her fists slightly as she grinned. “So don’t be surprised if-“ she shrieked, her jesting cut off as he swiftly reached out and twisted her wrist without moving his body; not enough to cause any intense pain or damage, but enough to bring her to her knees.

“Ow! Ow, what the hell, dude?!” she screeched, her knees bent and her face close to the floor at his feet. “Okay, okay, I yield, I concede, I give unto you my first-born, just get the fuck off me.” She demanded, her face pressed into the mat as he shrugged and let go, moving back a step as her arm collapsed to the mat and she grabbed it weakly, moaning softly as she pushed herself to her feet, glaring daggers at him as he stood there struggling to stifle a grin.

“If she wasn’t holding back, you’d be dead.” he concluded matter-of-factly, this time failing to stop a smile as she gasped in overexaggerated offense.

“That is…not fai-dude, she’s like, the closest thing to a ninja anyone’s ever met!” she protested heatedly, stomping her foot childishly.

“She is a ninja.” he reminded her calmly. Ignoring the childish grumblings of the woman across from him, he stepped forward.

“You lose your grip, or expose your wrist in any way, they’ll do a lot worse than that.” He began calmly, taking her wrist and lifting it up gently, pushing the silent involuntary gasp from her as he guided her wrist, stepping behind her and showing her the right way to position herself. “You lead with your strong side, they’ll have a harder time capitalising on your weaknesses like that.” he continued, gently taking both of her wrists and manoeuvring them into the correct position, all too aware of the closeness between them as he noted the hairs on the back of her neck stand up at the sensation of his breath and the closeness of his skin, focusing on what he was showing her and doing his best to not push it too far. 

Even though he knew he was goddamn pushing it right now; they hadn’t acted like this before, not ever so overtly. But by the way she didn’t complain or stiffen, instead moving her body into his like she knew exactly where to be as his body responded in kind with a new confidence he almost forgot he hadn’t possessed, he barely stifled a growl. He knew she was testing his boundaries just as much as he was testing hers.

“Is that what you do?” she asked softly, her voice lower and more teasing than before. This time, he was unable to prevent a low growl escaping his mouth, taking a deep breath as he looked down at her, smiling softly as he felt her shudder beneath his body.

“No, doll.” he revealed, marshalling his thoughts as he stepped away from her and ignoring the instinctive moving of her body towards his as he left, craving his touch just as much as he craved hers as he walked around to look at her. “I take them down before they have a chance.” He smirked slowly, one side of his mouth pulling up as his eyes met hers.

“And soon, you will too.”

\---

After the makeshift training session, he sat at the nearest bench in the training area, taking a large drink before he heard a groan from out of his vision; turning his head to look at the mat, he raised his eyebrow and chuckled at the sight of Darcy Lewis spread-eagled out on the mat, face down and hair mussed, letting out an unearthly groan that might have convinced him that she was dying if her spread-eagled body didn’t give him that impression first.

Setting down the water bottle, he stood up and headed over to her groaning form, stopping a few feet from her motionless head.

“Need some help?” 

A resounding groan was his response.

Half a smirk taking over his features again, he leant down and gently positioned his hands under her arms, giving her biceps a soft tug. Taking the hint with no small amount of groaning, Darcy’s body began to move once more, her legs pulling up as her arms worked with his until she was standing up in front of him, just as close as they were before. Suddenly all too aware of her head tilted up to look at him, he realised that he’d never actually taken the time to just look into her eyes; all bright blue and shining with a warmth that most people wished they possessed, screaming the friendliness and warmth that she’d shown him from day one. But looking further, he saw something else; apprehension. Not bad, like she was afraid of him, like his brain constantly reminded him that she should be. Soft, like she trusted him to do the right thing, even if she was a little bit anxious of what he thought was the right thing as well.

And for the first time since he’d become himself, he did know.

And suddenly, his hands had moved down to her hips, holding on with a strength that told her he didn’t want her to leave, but allowed her to if she suddenly wised up to whom she was doing this dance with and decided that she shouldn’t try this after all. But she didn’t, and her hands were on his hips, moving up softly, bit by bit as he slowly leaned his head forward, his eyes half-lidded as her head started to move forwards too, and her hands ended up cupping his jaw as his eyes closed and his lips pressed to hers.

He kissed her gently at first, as if to give her one last warning who she was kissing. And then she pressed her lips onto his harder in encouragement, her hands holding his jaw more firmly. She’d made her decision, and she’d been very clear in making it. Now it was his turn, he thought, as he pulled her in closer, his arm moving over the curves of her hips. 

And there a moment when he realised that irrespective of everything that he’d done, everything that he deserved for what he’d done, none of that mattered; especially not in that moment. She didn’t care what he’d done; she hadn’t seen the Winter Soldier, and she never had in the first place. She’d seen Bucky. The first person since Steve. And that fact alone made him squeeze her hips even tighter, eliciting a soft laugh from between her lips as her hands slowly moved down to his neck, curving her hands to fit delicately around his skin, as if they were meant to. He still didn’t know what he wanted, being here and being a member of a team. But he did know that he wanted her. And that was good for now.

As they pulled away slowly, neither of them really wanting to leave the other, his eyes opened to meet hers once more, and he knew that she knew; the upturned side of her mouth letting him know that she wanted him too. Just as much as he wanted her.

Her hand moving over slightly to caress his shoulder as they held each other’s gaze, something went off in his head; his eyes moving down to her hips, they widened slightly as he saw the cool metal of his arm moving along her curves as if to map them out, unashamed and unaware that that was the hand that had killed so many; stabbed countless and choked out countless others. Breathing softly as his eyes furrowed in slight confusion, his eyes moved back up to his shoulder as her hand slowly started to move down his murderous arm, watching with silent eyes as moving down his tricep to his forearm before finally coming to rest on top of his own hand holding her hip.

She squeezed his hand slightly, making him look back up at her to meet her smirk, her eyes now filled with teasing mirth.

“It wasn’t Clint, was it?” she asked in a low voice, her voice teasing. 

And suddenly, he started laughing; his face breaking out into a content grin as he softly leaned his forehead against hers. The first true feeling of contentment he’d felt since he’d arrived here.

“No, doll. It wasn’t.”


End file.
